


The Story of the Toy Soldier

by SkyFireForever



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, Love is Stored in the Toy Soldier, Multi, Other, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26826928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyFireForever/pseuds/SkyFireForever
Summary: In which the Toy Soldier’s history is explained.Or, a more in-depth retelling of the fiction The Story of the Toy Soldier filled with my own personal headcanons and thoughts.
Relationships: The Toy Soldier/The Angel (The Mechanisms), The Toy Soldier/The Widow (The Mechanisms)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	The Story of the Toy Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the people in the main Mechanisms discord for helping me out with headcanons and such for this!

There was nothing. 

There was less than nothing, actually. 

Could one really describe the all-consuming nothingness that came before one could perceive nothingness as nothingness? 

Maybe not. 

But then, there was something. 

The first thing that it felt was  _ feeling.  _

There was something wet upon its face, if it had a face. Did it have a face? It  _ felt  _ like it had a face. It felt like it had a face and a head and an entire body. 

How odd. 

It was certain that it hadn’t felt like it had a body before. 

It hadn’t felt anything before. 

But now it felt something wet upon its face. 

The wetness was mixed with something soft. Soft, wet strokes were being applied to it. 

Then, the strokes were gone. 

The wetness remained, at least for a little while. But that eventually dried and the feeling disappeared. 

There was nothing again. 

But it was a somewhat more nothingness than there was before. 

It could still feel that it had a body, even if it wasn’t sure how to move it quite yet. Was it supposed to be able to move? It wasn’t sure. 

There were sometimes other feelings that came for brief moments. 

The feeling of something soft against its hand. The feeling of something cool all over it. 

But the feelings never lasted long. 

The next thing that came to it was sound. 

Though that was a long, long time after it first experienced feeling. 

The first sound it heard was a voice. 

_ “Charles.”  _ It said. 

And then it was gone. 

Charles. 

What was a Charles? 

What did it mean? 

What was its importance? 

It didn’t know.

Sounds came more regularly after that. 

The same voice was heard often, along with that word again. 

_ “Charles.”  _

A few other words often accompanied it. 

_ “Husband.”  _

_ “Darling.”  _

It didn’t know what these sounds meant, but they must be important. 

Sight followed sound. 

Sight was overwhelming 

It finally knew the identity of the voice. 

It was an old woman who would sit across from it for hours at a time, speaking to it. 

She sat in a chair and it had the thought that it must also be sitting in a chair. There was a table before the both of them, filled with snacks that it could not eat. The old woman helped herself, though. 

And the woman would come often and speak for a great deal amount of time. 

Soon, it began to learn what certain words meant. 

_ Charles.  _

That was the word that was assigned to it. As were  _ husband  _ and  _ darling.  _

It learned about what was called the  _ news _ . It learned about  _ Elizabeth  _ and  _ Gertrude  _ and  _ George.  _ It learned that those were names assigned to other people, people that it did not see or know.

It learned that the snacks on the table were  _ cucumber sandwiches  _ and  _ scones.  _ It learned about  _ tea.  _

It also learned about  _ war  _ and  _ revolution  _ and  _ death.  _

These were things that made the old woman cry. 

It learned what  _ loss  _ was. 

It learned all sorts of words. With each new word it learned, the more fascinated it became by language. 

It wanted to know more. 

It wanted to ask questions. 

But it had no voice. 

It simply sat, silent and still. 

It simply watched. 

It simply listened. 

One day, when the old woman was not sitting with it, it had the distinct realization that it had never tried to move. 

So it tried. 

It lifted its hand and put it back down. 

It straightened out one leg. 

It rose from its chair and began walking around. 

It fell to the floor. 

Walking was not as easy as the old woman made it seem. 

So it tried again. 

And fell. 

So it tried again. 

And fell. 

Over and over again, this happened. 

Until the old woman stepped back into the room. 

“Charles!” She chastised. “You’ll hurt yourself!” She quickly picked it up and set it back in its chair. “If you’re going to be walking around, you must do it properly.” 

It went still again. 

“Very good.” She sat in her own chair, putting her hands in her lap. “Now, it’s time for high tea, husband darling.” She smiled. “Let me tell you all about what Getrude did today.” 

It sat. 

And it listened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think! Please share headcanons or things you'd like to see in this fic!


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